


Shelter

by WhiskyInMind (MomentsLost)



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-31
Updated: 2010-05-31
Packaged: 2017-10-09 19:59:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/91003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MomentsLost/pseuds/WhiskyInMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's nothing here and you slam the book closed...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shelter

There's nothing here and you slam the book closed. You know it's not the same. Researching in a library kinda needs… well, not to put too fine a point on it, a library.

And hey, remember all those bags of fertilizer you packed around the stacks back there in that old alma mater? Well… that kinda put the final nail in the coffin of the old library. And really, there's only so many times you can walk in on G doing the Hugh Heffner routine before it gets to the point where even bleach won't clear your brain of those images.

So, really, who's going to blame you when you pack up the car and head off? Who's going to take a moment and say 'Hey, Xander, you don't have to do that!'; who's going to say 'Hey, Xander, try this instead!'. No one.

And you try to ignore that inner voice asking the question _''Hey Xander, who cares if you skip town for a while?'_. You don't acknowledge the unspoken answer, _'no one.'_

It's not all that long before you hit traffic and, after moving approximately two miles in thirty minutes, you realize you're in LA.

You check the map and the scrawled directions you've been carrying around with you for a couple of months and you take the next exit.

The office is… well; it's not exactly bustling. Definitely not somewhere you'd expect, but, as you park up and walk into the dust-laden outer reception, you realize this is exactly the right ambience for a brooding wannabe-hero.

The acid of bitterness hits the back of your throat and you wonder just what the hell you're doing here.

_Angel_ is a hero. _You_ are the wannabe, when it all boils down to the bone.

And dammit, this whole idea was a really bad one. You figure you could probably be back in Sunnydale by nightfall if the traffic decides to be on your side (like that's gonna happen!) and you've actually turned to leave when you hear her voice.

"Xander?"

It's just your name. That's all it is. Nothing special, definitely not some magical word or hypnotic command, so why the hell are you rooted to the spot like this? You gradually regain control of your motor functions and force yourself to turn around.

There she is.

As beautiful as ever - and doesn't she know it? - Cordelia is valiantly trying not to let her jaw hit the floor. You take a second to think that maybe you should have called to let them know you were coming, when you see something in her eyes. Not lust, you aren't so blind as to think she still wants you; but, there's… something there.

"CC." Your pet name for her spills from your lips automatically and the softness in her smile makes you wonder if anyone else in the world has ever called her that. You kinda doubt it.

"What are…? Did you want something?" She's flustered and for a split second you're back in that dress shop and you wonder what she's trying to hide. You know it's not a name-tag this time.

"And it's good to see you too, Cor'," you say and you know the grin's on your face without any input from your higher functioning brain. Then again, there's definitely something to be said for the not-so-high-functioning brain.

"Oh-kay," she counters, the mask of the perfect office manager snaps on. Has she forgotten that you know how to read her masks? She continues, "Angel's out on a case right now, can I take your details?"

You frown. Take your details? She can't mean that, can she? La-La land hasn't changed her so much that she's completely forgotten you already, has she? And that's when you realize - belatedly perhaps, this is the perfect reason to complain to any powers out there for your lack of any but the five senses because back on the Hellmouth this kind of thing would mean you were dead already - that someone has followed you into the office.

"Lindsey." Cordy says, apparently addressing the man who is now standing just behind you. "You'll have to wait. As you can see, I have a legitimate client to attend to here."

The newcomer actually bristles - not something you ever thought you would see in person, and you figure it's not something that this well dressed… accountant? lawyer? does all that often - and, when you meet Cordy's eyes, you decide to play along.

"I'm afraid this is urgent," you say, struggling to bring to mind all those script read-through's you suffered through to encourage Cor's nascent acting career and trying to remember how to get into character. _Any_ character would do right now. "And, I'm sorry to say, confidential. If Angel isn't here, could you and I perhaps discuss this in private?"

"Absolutely, please, come this way." Cor barely gestures to a darkened office somewhere in the back of the complex as she heads out of the reception area.

You're left with this stranger - this Lindsey (and you briefly wonder what kind of name 'Lindsey' is for a guy) - long enough to compare your well-worn work jeans and plaid shirt with his thousand dollar suit before you follow her into the gloom.

"CC?" You say as you close the office door behind you, you know something's not right here, but you're not at the stage of calling it wrong. Yet. "Something you wanna tell me about him?"

"What, you mean apart from the fact he's a lawyer" _(knew it!)_ "dug so deep into the dark side that Vader's asking him to put in a good word for him to the Emperor? And, oh my God, how much do I hate you, Xander Harris, for making me make a Star Wars reference!" Cordy sighed and faced him. "Basically? He's bad news."

"Okay…" You don't quite know what to say. "So, at least it's not because you and he dated or anything…"

You didn't have an end to that sentence and it's just as well since Cordy has thrown her arms around you, making it difficult enough to breathe, never mind speak.

"Xander!" She exclaims. "How are you?"

"Asphyxiating." You manage to say, although honestly you've been hugged tighter than this, even if those hugs haven't meant quite so much as this one does. "What about you?"

Her tight grip around you slackens and she steps back. A frown creases her brow and you hate yourself for thinking that a couple of months ago she'd have botox'd the hell out of those wrinkles. "Not so great, actually," she manages to say before her eyes squeeze shut and an aborted scream escapes from her lips as she backs away grasping blindly for the desk behind her.

"Cordy?" You don't register you've said her name; all you care about is that you've caught her before she fell. "Cor?"

Her eyelids are flickering like an asylum patient in the midst of an intense delusion and for now you forget all about the research you were here to do. Cordy needs you.

You're here for her.

You always will be.


End file.
